Bellifortis
by hairsprayheart
Summary: Peace has a price. In order for Narnia's new kings and queens to face an old threat at the beginning of the Golden Age, they must first learn to rely on their people - and each other.
1. Old and New

BELLIFORTIS

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter One: Old and New

* * *

AN: What? Another Narnia fic, when the other ones aren't even close to being finished?

I know. Please forgive my lack of ability to focus. Or update. But the coming of spring break has inspired this, so here it is.

As far as the title goes, it is from a military strategy book by Konrad Keyser in early Germany, which means "strength in battle." (Yes, I am a history geek…) Anyway, on with the story! Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Edmund Pevensie had long ago learned that everything had a price. The brief satisfaction that he had once gotten from back-talking to his older brother or bullying his younger sister always resulted in some form of punishment. A stolen biscuit, delicious almost solely in the fact that it had been consumed moments before supper time (as was expressly forbidden) might result in getting no supper at all. These small, petty acts of childish rebellion had seemed worth it at the time, because they had given him the attention he so deeply desired. (After all, who could compete with the charming Peter, the beautiful Susan, or the darling Lucy?) But he found himself, now, growing weary of attention, and even wearier of himself.

More tangible than punishment was the cruel practice of rationing that had been brought on by the war back home. It had been better in Finchley than in some places, and Edmund knew that he should have felt lucky (some families had double or more the four children of his household), but had focused instead on wallowing in self-pity and sulking because his dad had been sent away, and was about to be as well.

Already the time at Professor Kirke's – and the reasons for it – seemed distant. From his seat on his throne – _his_ throne, his _throne_! – Edmund could watch the progression of the party thrown to celebrate his coronation. His wandering eyes often rested briefly, on a dress, on a candelabra, on a dryad. How much did the dress cost? The candelabra? The life and freedom and safety of the dryad? Of his family? He could see the whole kingdom, but in every dress and candelabra and dryad, all he could really see was Aslan.

If Edmund had been the same Edmund – sibling-bullying, biscuit-stealing Edmund – he might have quite hated the Lion. Knowing that someone was trying to help him when he could not help himself would have greatly irked him; you might even say made him jealous. He did not like being helped, and normally found someone doing so to be putting on airs. He liked feeling strong and independent. But the only place he had managed to get himself was in a very deep, very dark hole, and he could not have climbed out alone. It had taken the prospect of death to rattle him, and then, (quite nearly complete, if not for Lucy's cordial) death to really change him. He was still dying, a little bit, the old Edmund was. But not at the hand of the White Witch – at the hand of Aslan.

The Lion had died in his place. His siblings did not know that _he_ knew that just yet. (What else had they expected Aslan to talk to him about?) _Edmund_ did not like being in debt to anyone, for anything, because it made him feel needy. But _King_ Edmund did not mind so much, because though this was a debt that he actually wanted to repay, he knew that he could not.

While he sat on the throne, before the Lion and the Narnians, he had never felt so unworthy. They called him _Just_. The only way that title could possibly be appropriate was if it was meant as "only." As in, "Oh, that's _just_ Edmund." He had done nothing to deserve any of this. The rest of them had paid dearly – with their pride, their safety, and their lives – but he was astonishingly insignificant.

His throne was much too large for him, and he felt small and pale in it. He glanced to his siblings. Peter was glowing, Susan radiant, Lucy giddy. He gave a small smile as the Narnians toasted all of their rulers. As he looked to the sea, he allowed the glory of the day to wash over him, taking away his burdens in the tide that sounded so much like a roar.

* * *

Peter woke the next morning (or, at least, he _thought_ it was morning; it was really too dark to tell) by being heartily shaken.

"Unh," he groaned, and rolled over in a feeble attempt to escape his attacker.

"Wake up, High King. The celebration is over."

"That's for sure," Peter grumbled, finally sitting up. Oreius, Centaur general, stood over him with an expression that Peter thought, in his sleepy haze, almost resembled a smile.

"Good morning."

Peter glared. "Is it?"

The Centaur grunted. Was that a _chuckle_?

"Yes, it is morning. As far as whether or not it will be good… That is up to you, your Majesty."

Getting out of bed, Peter asked, "Am I the first awake?"

Seeming to have used up his tiny supply of humor, the Centaur simply inclined his head in answer.

Despite himself, Peter grinned. So he would still have to wake up Edmund. "Good luck."

Even though he had gotten accustomed to early morning rising, training at Aslan's camp, the celebration had lasted late into the night. The newly-crowned royals crashed into their unfamiliar, but exceedingly comfortable, beds without complaint. And without the knowledge that they would be woken before dawn.

For this night only, the two brothers had slept apart – Edmund had turned in earlier; though both were exhausted from the battle, Edmund was younger and needed sleep to recover fully from his near-death. And as the sounds of Oreius waking his brother could be heard, Peter was glad of this (and the bedroom his sisters shared being located far down the hall).

Though he was nearly too tired to do it, Peter decided to dress himself. While valets and courtiers were always eager to help, they deserved their sleep after the previous night. Peter placed his crown atop his head, and began his first full day as Narnia's High King.

* * *

"Why are we still training, again?"

Peter did not like sounding like such a baby, but Oreius had been working them hard for two hours, and his muscles already ached. He thought all of the training they had done was sufficient, both to keep himself and his family and his kingdom safe, not to mention build up his muscles. But he had been wrong.

He regretted wasting his breath.

"The battle is over," the Centaur agreed, "but you must remain… sharp."

At this, the general watched in satisfaction as the younger king got the upper hand. Peter was pinned to the ground, with Edmund lying on his chest, and the tip of a short sword pressed his throat. For a moment, the two brothers' eyes searched each other's, the fierce spark that had lit Edmund's eyes fading as he realized who he was fighting.

"Well done, Ed," Peter panted, surprised.

"He's getting better," Oreius allowed. "He does not complain."

Peter sighed – as always, Oreius was right. Edmund had the good grace not to look too triumphant as he backed off. Oreius, as he pulled both of them easily to their feet, added, "Only those who can bear practice can bear war."

"But the White Witch is dead," Edmund stated, his young face grave.

The Centaur paused.

"I fear the battle for Narnia is not over," he confessed. "Her minions still live. Without a leader, they are only simple brutes, and can be overtaken. But many hunger for revenge."

"Never mind. Do let us keep training," Peter said hastily, his hand groping for Rhindon even as he spoke.

"Kings need their strength," Oreius allowed. "Come. Your royal sisters are awake, and ready to break fast with you."

Trudging up the hill to the castle was difficult. More than the weight of armor or Rhindon (both of which he had grown accustomed to), Peter was burdened by his thoughts. If there was still a threat, he must keep training. He had failed to keep his family safe at Beruna, and must not do so again. Throughout the meal, his worries occupied him. He only half-listened to Lucy gushing over the sunrise. When there was a lull in the conversation, he looked up.

"Hmm?"

The others were gazing at him expectantly. Edmund appeared to have been shoveling food down his throat with great zeal, because his cheeks were full and his fork was halfway to his open mouth. Lucy's lips were also parted, as she was in the throes of telling a story, but Susan was only staring at him.

"She asked you a question."

"Sorry, Lu. Go on," Peter apologized.

"Are you hungry? You haven't touched your food."

Realizing that he was, and he hadn't, he shoved his plate towards Edmund anyway.

"I've got some work to do."

"Hold on," Susan insisted, catching his (very sore) arm as he stood to leave. She gave him a reproachful glance when he grimaced, assuming it was at her expense. "You haven't said a word all morning."

She retrieved his plate – leaving Edmund looking slightly disappointed – and sent Ed and Lucy off to the kitchen to fetch more for him.

"Even if you aren't hungry, you will be later. Now, eat."

She watched him as he obliged, though all the while gazing at her balefully.

"How was your training?"

He shrugged, attacking his ham.

"That bad, huh?" She smiled sympathetically.

"Something Oreius said earlier worried me, that's all," he said, as dismissively as possible.

Susan's face fell. "What was it?"

"_I_ don't want to worry _you_," he replied, taking a bite to save himself from elaborating.

As Lucy and Edmund returned, Susan hissed, "We're not done talking about this."

Peter just shrugged again, and took another bite.

"Find everything you wanted?" Susan asked Edmund brightly, as her younger siblings seated themselves.

"I already know," he replied dully.

Susan frowned at him, then turned to Lucy with a forced smile. "…know how much fun we're going to have today!" she inserted. "_Right_, boys?"

While the brothers continued to eat, avoiding her glance, Susan stood. "Mr. Tumnus!" she called.

The Faun tottered in as fast as his little legs could carry him. He bowed, and Susan curtsied.

"Mr. Tumnus, Lucy wishes to take a stroll with you," she said, rather tightly, though with a smile. "Now, please."

"It would be my pleasure," came the reply. The urgency was clearly understood. He gave Lucy a small, familiar smile and offered her his arm, which she took gladly. She was too young and honored to be suspicious of her siblings. In passing, Tumnus addressed them. "Your Majesties."

Lucy waved, and they were off. Her siblings could already hear the strains of her chatter as Mr. Tumnus steered her down the hall.

As soon as the pair was out of hearing range, Susan fell upon her remaining siblings.

"_Well_? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"It's all right, Su, really," Peter said reassuringly. "Between Oreius, Lucy's cordial, and thousands of soldiers, Narnia is quite well off."

Edmund appeared more afraid of Susan than anything else, and was glad enough to let Peter take control of calming her down. But at this, he spoke: "And Aslan."

Peter smiled widely at his younger brother. "Yes, and Aslan."

He put his hand on Susan's shoulder.

"You don't have to control this, Su," he said softly. "Someone else is."

"I know, I know," Susan snapped, frustrated with her utter powerlessness even as she resigned herself to acceptance of it. She sat back in her chair with a sigh, and added in a small voice, "I wish he was still here."

Peter stood and wrapped his arms around her.

"But he is."

As he left, he paused to kiss his brother's hair (both to Edmund's disgust and delight). Edmund quickly followed him down the hall.

Susan waited until they were gone to get up. She had to speak to Oreius.

* * *

Arm-in-arm with Tumnus, Lucy was thoroughly enjoying herself. The wet sand clung between her toes, and the salty breeze filled her lungs and toyed with her hair.

"'Tis a fine day, Queen Lucy," the Faun said conversationally. As he looked down at his companion, his dark eyes twinkled.

"Being with you has made it all the better, dear Mr. Tumnus," Lucy told him smilingly.

As she moved closer to him to bump him playfully, he blushed at the praise.

"Your Majesty is too kind."

"Really," Lucy laughed. "I wouldn't lie to you."

_But he had lied to her._

Tumnus halted abruptly, his arm dropping from hers, before Lucy realized her mistake.

"Oh, Mr. Tumnus! I am dreadfully sorry," she gasped, quickly taking his hand. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Oh, _please_, don't cry!"

The Faun smiled bravely after a choked laugh.

Lucy was surprised at him. She had forgiven him, _Aslan_ had forgiven him, and he had not yet forgiven himself. Why? He hadn't even actually turned her in. And what he had done for Lucy outweighed anything that he had merely considered doing. After all, he was her very best friend.

"Do cheer up. There is so much to be happy about," Lucy half-admonished, looping her arm through his once again to continue their walk. "Silly old Faun."

Tumnus looked at her in mock anger.

"I am not old!" he cried indignantly.

Lucy grinned. "But you are silly."

"Takes one to know one," Tumnus replied cheekily.

"Why, Mr. Tumnus!"

At that, Lucy broke from his grasp and took off running down the beach, hiking up her skirts and shrieking with laughter. Shocked and guilty, Tumnus shook himself and ran after her.

"Your Majesty!" he begged. "Please…"

At his command, Lucy stopped and turned around, fixing him with a steely gaze he recognized even from a distance as a mixture of mirth and defiance. Panting, he caught up.

"You – you," he began breathlessly, "you're quite fast, my Queen."

Lucy looked at him seriously.

"Why do you not just call me Lucy?" she asked.

Caught off guard, Tumnus hesitated. "I suppose because it's disrespectful."

"Oh, pish-posh," Lucy snapped. "I'm still the same girl you met in the forest."

Tumnus gave her a little smile.

"Thank Aslan for that," he said honestly. "…And just as saucy."

"I would much prefer to just be called Lucy. You are my dearest friend," Lucy reminded him, beaming.

"I prefer Lucy, too," the Faun admitted.

"Well, then, Mr. Tumnus," Lucy said, with a wide smile, "would you like to accompany me back home?"

Of course, _home_ meant Cair Paravel. Tumnus smiled to himself and squeezed her hand.

"I would love to… Lucy."

Lucy squeezed back and smiled at him as well.

"I don't suppose this means _I_ can't call you _Mister_ Tumnus."

"Of course you must," Tumnus replied teasingly. "After all, I am so very old."

The youngest queen laughed gaily. "I think you're perfectly wonderful just as you are."

"And you, Queen Lucy Pevensie, are even more wonderful than you know," the Faun responded seriously.

"Get me home before my head swells any more," Lucy demanded, embarrassed.

"Only if you promise to walk with me again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, and every day, sir," was the happy reply. "And that's a promise."

* * *

Susan rapped on the thick oak door firmly. Her lips were set in a thin line in her determination. Even from outside, she could hear the shouts and clanging of metal within the armory, but she would not move from the spot until she was appeased.

"What do yer— Oh, my apologies, your Majesty," a Black Dwarf greeted her, blushing at his rude mistake. "Er, c'mon in."

Susan crossed her arms over her chest, clearly uncomfortable. Not only was she about to go into an area that was meant, almost expressly, for rough - male - soldiers, but she was speaking to a Black Dwarf who bore an unfortunate and frightening resemblance to Ginarrbrik, the Dwarf who had almost murdered Edmund and received an arrow in his own chest instead. "I mean to speak to Oreius," she said simply.

"O'cour— _of course_," the Dwarf stumbled. "Just a minute, iffen you please."

Susan smiled slightly, appreciative of the Dwarf's efforts to be polite for her (even if he didn't look exactly like the rest of the Narnians, her mother had always told her that you can't judge a book by its cover). When he turned to leave, she took his arm gently.

"Excuse me, but what is your name, good Dwarf?"

"'Tis Albarik, my queen," he replied gruffly, with an awkward bow. "Delighted t' be of service t' you."

"Thank you, Albarik."

"Aye, 'tis nothing." He nodded quickly and turned away, bellowing, "_Oreius_!"

All noise stopped, and Susan winced.

"What?" The Centaur was clearly not pleased to be interrupted.

"There's someone here t' see ya, sir," she heard Albarik say.

"Who?"

"'Tis the Queen, sir."

She heard hoof beats, and in an instant Oreius stood before her. His broad bay flanks glistened with a sheen of sweat, and she knew he had been hard at work. Her gaze returned to his face quickly and she greeted him.

"Sorry to disturb you, General. I had a feeling I would find you here."

The Centaur nodded for her to continue.

Susan blinked and gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. "Well, I… Oh, it all sounds so silly, now."

"My queen, nothing you desire is, as you say, silly."

"I suppose," Susan replied gratefully. "I was just wondering about something you said to Peter earlier."

Though his face betrayed no emotion, Susan noticed a flicker of darkness cross the general's eyes for an instant.

"Come with me," he said, offering a muscled arm.

Barely hesitating, Susan obeyed, reaching to take his arm and pretending not to notice that he had to stoop as he accompanied her through the armory.

"Acknowledge your queen," he commanded, his quiet voice unnervingly calm.

Every Narnian present dropped to their knees at the sight of her.

"I-I thank you," Susan managed, honored.

After his men rose and returned to work, Oreius brought Susan to the back of the large building, where there was a lone barrel. Susan stared at it curiously before Oreius spoke again.

"The conflict is an old one, my Queen," he murmured, releasing her and prying the lid off of the barrel with ease. "But this is a new Narnia."

Confused by his words, Susan simply nodded, watching as Oreius drew something from the barrel.

"This," he said, with obvious pride, "is a Narnian arrow."

Susan gawked. "_That_ is an arrow?"

"Only the shaft," Oreius corrected. "But with time and work, and some good fletching, it will be fit for a… queen."

"I think I know what you're getting at," Susan mused. "With my siblings, and some practice…" She trailed off, looking up at the Centaur for confirmation.

"Very good, your Majesty," he praised her. "Your wisdom matches your beauty, if I may say so."

Susan flushed. "You may."

Oreius smiled, plucking a small package from a nearby bin and handing it to her.

It was long and thin, a fine grain mahogany case, with a golden plaque inscribed:

_May your hand be steady and your aim be true_

_And Aslan's paw always guiding you._

Eagerly, she opened the box, and found herself gazing at the most wondrous arrow she had ever laid eyes upon.

"It is beautiful," she breathed.

"May you remain deserving of the title that Aslan has bestowed upon you," Oreius said seriously. "But this arrow shall serve you well if you need it."

Susan could only nod dumbly. The arrow was gorgeous, fletched and tipped in _gold_. She could not imagine using it in battle, or even removing it from its case. She stared at the arrow in awe for another moment before she looked up at Oreius, remembering her manners.

"Thank you," she managed.

"Don't thank me," the Centaur insisted modestly.

"Then who may I thank?" she inquired, surprised.

Oreius nodded towards the short, stout figure bent over the forge.

"'Twas Albarik, your Majesty – one of the finest craftsmen in Narnia."

"I believe it," Susan said softly, looking from the Dwarf to the arrow and then back again. "Perhaps I shall have to thank him another time?"

"You are always welcome here," Oreius told her. "Though it is not exactly fit for a lady such as yourself, your company is greatly pleasing."

Susan blushed and clutched the box to her chest.

"I really must be going. Thank you, General, for everything."

"May Aslan's blessing be upon you," Oreius said, in parting.

"May Aslan's blessing be upon _you_," Susan repeated, smiling.

Then she hurried away to fetch her bow. She really ought to practice. The arrow looked as though it would sail through the air like a knife. She could already imagine the target as one of those dreadful Boggles.

There was nothing, she thought, like a fresh start.

* * *

"I don't know why you gathered us all here, Lu," Edmund was saying, only half-grumbling.

"Look out the window," Lucy encouraged.

The darkening sky was lit with streaks of every color, like burst firecrackers.

"Sunrise, sunset – they look all the same to me," Peter agreed with his brother.

"Shut up and enjoy the moment, both of you," Susan demanded, putting an arm around both of her brothers.

Lucy shot her a grateful smile and sighed happily.

"Do you think it's like this all the time?" Edmund asked quietly.

"I only wish," Peter breathed.

The kings exchanged a glance, then gazed again out of the great window at the sunset.

"This is it," Susan said softly, "the end of our first day as Narnia's kings and queens."

"And the beginning of the night," Lucy whispered.

The four siblings stood for a moment in companionable silence, watching the sun drop into the sea. Peace filled their hearts. As the sun became hidden, so also fell away their fears. The darkened clouds made a mass, and though none of them said anything, the kings and queens found that it looked remarkably like a lion. And they knew that no matter what happened tomorrow, they would still have Aslan. And they would always have each other.


	2. Dreams and Nightmares

BELLIFORTIS

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Two: Dreams and Nightmares

* * *

AN: Wow. I'm embarrassed that it took me this long to update. *sigh* Just a head's up - I changed the spelling to "Albarik" in order to keep in line with traditional Narnian names. It should be fixed now. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

It was white. White, blank whiteness, dead whiteness, everywhere. A blanket of snow covered the ground. The powder dusted everything in sight - trees, shrubs, rocks – seeming to suffocate the life out of each with its cold embrace. It was as silent as death.

_Crack_! A mail-clad fist punched through the snow, and with a resounding roar, an armored Minotaur emerged…

Edmund sat up, his chest heaving and tears streaming down his cheeks. _Just a dream, just a dream_, he repeated to himself, over and over. He bit down fiercely on his bottom lip to distract himself from the image of the White Witch's general. This was the second time in a row he'd had a nightmare about her or one of her minions. It appeared as though even though she was dead, her evil was not. It haunted him every waking moment of his life. He could taste the coppery blood welling up.

"King Edmund, King Edmund," Mr. Tumnus called, rushing into the room with his scarf flying behind him. "Is everything all right? You were screaming."

"I was?"

Edmund stared down at his twisted sheets, ashamed. He had never been able to look Tumnus in the eye. Not since... since the dungeon. He fisted his hands in the linen. "What—what did I say?"

The Faun moved a hesitant step closer and gave Edmund a tiny, sympathetic smile.

"You were asking for Peter," he said quietly.

Edmund nodded. He fiddled a bit with the sheets, gripping and releasing them alternately. He glanced briefly out the window, then back at his hands. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He did everything but respond. Tumnus would understand. (Fauns are very understanding creatures.)

"Mr. Tumnus," he said, just as the Faun had finally turned to go. "Did I wake you?"

The Faun shook his head, dark curls bouncing in an ironically happy fashion around his nubby little horns. "Peter's been up for hours - you didn't disturb me. Just gave me a fright, is all."

Edmund blinked rapidly, fighting tears. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered.

Tumnus stood awkwardly, and then returned to the side of Edmund's bed. They both knew that he wasn't just apologizing for making noise. The Faun squatted and looked straight at Edmund.

"I was in jail for a reason," he murmured. The words seemed to have been ripped from his throat. "We... we have all made mistakes."

Edmund squirmed under Mr. Tumnus' intense gaze - _he_ was the reason Tumnus had been in jail - but he was intrigued. Though he had turned the Faun in, what crime had he turned him in _for_?

"What did you do?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

The Faun shook his head mournfully. "I was trying... I was trying..." He stumbled over his words like he was choking on them. Perhaps he was. "I was ordered by the White Witch to kidnap Lucy..."

Surprised, Edmund blinked. He noticed with considerable embarrassment that a tear was also beginning to slide down Tumnus' cheek.

"Well, not Lucy specifically. Any human that any of us found - we were supposed to turn it over to her."

"But you didn't," he said quickly. Just to make sure.

"No," Tumnus said, wiping his face with a handkerchief and collecting himself. "I didn't, thank Aslan. Which is why the Witch was angry. ...Any punishment was worth it to keep all of you safe."

"Thanks." Edmund paused thoughtfully. "I... I'm really sorry-- for everything."

Tumnus regarded him for a moment.

"Don't be sorry. The Witch has tempted all of us, but can do so never-more. Things all turned out for the better, right?"

Again, Edmund simply nodded. He knew that he would still have to live the rest of his life with what he had done, but he felt that he deserved it. The guilt he felt would forever remind him of Aslan's mercy and of his own mistakes, and not to make them again. It would serve both as his punishment and his saving grace.

Tumnus smiled at him tentatively. Then he reached out and very lightly laid his hand on Edmund's cheek. Edmund tensed initially, but felt himself oddly comforted by the contact, and slowly relaxed.

"Warm," Tumnus said, patting the cheek tenderly and retracting his hand. "And soft."

_Not at all like her_.

With a small smile, Mr. Tumnus rose from his haunches.

"Good day, King Edmund."

Edmund returned the smile.

"Good day, Mr. Tumnus. ... And thanks."

The Faun gave him a little wink, and was gone.

For a moment, Edmund sat quietly in his twisted sheets, and then disentangled himself from the nightmare he'd thought himself trapped in.

* * *

"I still can't believe it's real," Lucy chirped, plopping into her seat at the table with a happy sigh.

"That we're kings and queens?" Susan asked, seating herself, more gracefully, beside her sister.

"I'm still having trouble believing we're here at all," said Peter with a boyish grin.

Edmund moseyed in, looking half-asleep and more than a little confused, and collapsed into his chair.

"Good morning, Ed," Lucy cried happily.

"Nice of you to join us," Peter added, not unkindly.

"Peter, he's only just awake," Susan chided.

Ignoring her purposefully, the older king took a rather savage bite of his breakfast. Susan rolled her eyes. Though they were royals now, it was still apparent that they were children - children who had a good deal of adjusting, and growing, to do.

Lucy, ever the brave peacekeeper, piped up, "How did training with Oreius go?"

"All right," Edmund said simply, the words muffled around a mouthful of egg.

"Marry, but I'm sore," Peter complained.

Everyone stopped and looked at him, and when he eyed them exasperatedly ("Oh, whatever is it _this_ time?"), Lucy grinned innocently.

"I haven't heard language like that since last term when we read old Shakespeare," Susan commented.

Peter glared at his toast and resumed eating. His teenage body appeared to be growing as fast as his vocabulary.

"After all the fuss, I think it would be nice to spend some time together," Lucy piped up, finishing her breakfast first.

"With you lot?" Peter wrinkled his nose and gave a mock grimace, and while Lucy giggled, he earned himself another hard stare from his other sister. "No thanks."

"You're incorrigible," Susan informed him primly.

"Who's the smart one now?" Edmund said in a stage whisper to Lucy, causing another fit of giggling. Susan just shook her head at him, but she was smiling. And then she threw a roll at his head.

The Satyr courtier positioned at the doorway glanced at them in alarm, and this was justified when Ed's look of surprise gave way to one of rage, and fire was returned with his own roll and a slice of toast besides. The toast landed, of course, butter-side down on Susan's chest, and she was too outraged to defend herself when Peter's ham found itself in her hair. Lucy laughed until Susan's plate of berries began to rain down mercilessly upon her, and then full battle was engaged.

The food-slinging siblings' laughter nearly drowned out the clanging plates that were used as shields against the spoons serving as catapults. By the time they were all covered with the remains of their breakfast, Lucy realized that they were having more fun together than she had ever dreamed possible.

When the rest of their servants trudged in, scolding them gently and wagging their heads at the children's wastefulness, they pitched in, of course, and apologized profusely. But they had all had a lovely time.

* * *

Tumnus arrived for his daily stroll with Lucy at precisely the right time (Fauns do make a habit of being precise, you know). She was now cleaned up, all the remnants of food having been scrubbed from her body during a delightful bubble bath, and a light linen dress clothed her water-pinkened skin. After a quick greeting from her other siblings, she took Mr. Tumnus' hand and they began their walk.

Today, they headed toward the wood, where Tumnus had promised to introduce Lucy to some of his friends (after continuous pleading on her part, of course). Mr. Badger, the Beavers' friend, had invited Tumnus over for tea, and Lucy, having had such nice experiences in Narnia with tea, had eagerly agreed to go when Tumnus had politely, if hesitantly, offered.

"Now, Badger may not be quite like the sort of Animal you are used to," Tumnus was saying, as they walked together in the shade of the green canopy the Trees made over their heads. "He isn't very used to having company, you see."

"That's quite all right," Lucy assured him sweetly. "I'm sure I will like him very much."

Tumnus smiled and tapped the tip of her nose with his finger playfully. "And I'm sure he will like you, too, Lucy."

The young queen beamed, and suddenly her tummy gave a rather loud growl.

"Sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "I didn't eat a very big breakfast today."

"Why ever not?" Tumnus asked worriedly. Ever since he had first met Lucy, he had taken it upon himself to take care of her. Since he was the first one to endanger his well-being, he believed himself to remain responsible for it.

So she recounted the tale of the food fight, and how the lunch she had planned on packing for their journey (it was a long way to Badger's house) ended up, for the most part, in her hair instead. Tumnus listened patiently, making surprised or amused faces at appropriate times during the story. He was a very good listener – only one of the things that Lucy liked so much about him. By the time she finished, they had arrived.

"There it is," Tumnus said, looking at a rather large hole in the ground dubiously.

"Oh, I do hope he has cakes and jam," Lucy wondered aloud, dropping to her knees to crawl into the hole.

Tumnus followed suit, albeit nervously. If Lucy wanted an adventure, she would most certainly get one.

* * *

Though she wouldn't admit it, Susan was bored. Lucy had been out with Tumnus for what seemed like ages, and Edmund and Peter were going over some important matters of state with their advisors. She, as a queen, was just as respected as her brothers, but not as adored as Lucy and not as duty-laden as Peter or Edmund. Normally, this wouldn't bother her - she was the gentle queen, the beauty of the family, the one expected to carry out her domestic tasks without complaint and run the household with grace. But there was something that irked her, a niggling fear in the back of her mind, and sitting around doing nothing but looking pretty wouldn't cut it. She wasn't supposed to fight, she knew, but Aslan had given her a bow and arrow for a reason. So, for the second day in a row, she practiced.

She was really getting good, she noticed with pleasure as each shot flew true. Of course, this wasn't all her own doing - the bow she had _was_ enchanted - but some credit had to be given for her consistent shooting.

Collecting all of her arrows from the distant targets, Susan saw a movement in the bushes. Arrow on string, she moved over to investigate and was surprised to see a very embarrassed-looking Albarik crouching there.

"Do ye like th' arrow, yer Majesty?" he asked, with a sheepish smile.

"Very much so, Albarik," Susan said, returning the smile as she realized that very one was lined up against the taut string of the bow. She removed it hastily. "It is lovely."

Instead of saying anything, Albarik just nodded.

"Would you like to come out of the bushes now, then?"

"Yes, yer Majesty."

With a smile, Susan offered Albarik a hand and hauled him to his feet. He was short (of course) and squat, but not too much to handle for her newly toned arms.

"Thank ye, yer Majesty," he grunted, brushing leaves from his backside rather gracelessly.

"You're welcome," Susan replied. "It's Susan, though, if you please."

"Yes, yer - Susan..."

She let out a happy trill of laughter at his little slip-up, and though he blushed, all was in good fun.

"Albarik, would you like to sup with us this evening? We would very much enjoy your company."

"Nay, though I thank ye." Albarik shook his head vehemently. "I don't think yer royal brothers would care fer the likes o' me at yer table."

"Oh, don't be silly. They would be honored."

"The fellers and I usu'ly eat t'gether anyways," Albarik was quick to reassure her. "I mean, iffen you would be so inclined as to lower yourself an' join us…"

"The High King would probably have my head if I missed a meal with them," Susan replied teasingly. "But perhaps I'll take you up on your offer someday."

Satisfied, Albarik nodded. "Good eve, your Majesty."

"Good eve to you, Albarik."

With this, they parted ways. Susan began to daydream as she walked, not noticing that she fingered Albarik's bow all the while.

* * *

"Welcome, welcome, welcome to my humble abode!" Badger boomed, greeting them with a sweeping gesture.

Though the home was small, it contained more clutter than Lucy had probably ever seen before. The floor was littered with books that had been presumably swept off the table to make room for the mismatched saucers and teacups, and there were papers and writing utensils strewn ever. The remnants of recent meals

"Hello, Badger," Tumnus said warily. "This is Queen Lucy Pevensie."

"Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Badger," Lucy smiled, curtseying neatly.

"My, my! Well met, your Majesty! Come in, come in!"

He wrung Lucy's hand vigorously and lumbered off to another, more well-lit part of the burrow. Lucy grinned and followed him further into the house, taking Tumnus' hand to tug him in after her. The Badger looked a bit mad, but at least he was more interesting than the stuffy old diplomats that had been hanging about the Cair.

"Tea and sugar!" Badger offered, rummaging through his cupboards noisily.

Lucy stifled a giggle and asked Tumnus in a whisper: "Does he always end his sentences with exclamation points?"

"Why yes, I do believe he does," Tumnus said.

"Sit down, if you please!"

Lucy and Tumnus obeyed immediately, and Mr. Badger served them their tea shortly afterwards.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome!"

Between sips of the tea - which, if it contained any sugar, had either very little of it or a very different sort that Lucy was used to - Lucy began a polite conversation with Badger. He was more than happy to answer all of her questions. It went something like this:

"So, how many years have you lived here, Mr. Badger?"

"Well, almost my whole life, I suspect!"

"Do you like it?"

"Very much so!"

"Are you glad that the Winter is over, sir?"

"My heavens, yes! I told Tumnus it would happen sooner or later, and the chap didn't believe me!" This was followed by a hearty laugh. (If you have not heard a Badger laugh - and you probably haven't - then you are very lucky indeed.)

They had been there quite a while and listened to quite a few tales, most of them Lucy expected were slightly embellished, and eaten quite a few cakes and drunk quite a bit of tea. Badger had just started in on another story, this one about when he fought hand-to-paw with the White Witch after being returned to life from stone, when he asked Tumnus what he had been doing during the fight for Narnia.

After becoming increasingly uncomfortable, Tumnus, who had said not a word the entire visit, cried out, "That's quite enough!"

"Ready for more tea, are you, old boy?" Badger asked, picking up the kettle suggestively.

"I think it's time we head home, Lucy," Tumnus said quietly. "We mustn't be in the woods when night falls."

"Oh, but we're having so much fun," Lucy complained good-naturedly.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Tumnus!" Badger agreed.

The Faun frowned and looked at his companion pleadingly. "Come along, your Majesty," he pressed.

"Oh, all right," Lucy gave in. "If we must."

"Oh, Tumnus, we were having such a lovely time!" Badger shook his head. "What are you so afraid of? The forests are perfectly safe now!"

"Thank you ever so much for having us, Mr. Badger," Lucy said pointedly.

Relieved, Tumnus muttered his own good-byes and sooner than Lucy could say "Jack Robinson" they were outside again in the cooling evening air.

"We'll be back at Cair Paravel in time for supper, won't we?" Lucy asked.

"I do hope so," was all Tumnus would say. He had taken her hand and they were pushing through the trees swiftly, more swiftly than would be necessary under normal circumstances.

"Mr. Tumnus, why are we in such a hurry?"

"The forest is dangerous at night, Lucy," he reiterated. "That's all."

"That Tree did look pretty scary," Lucy teased.

He gripped her hand a little tighter and did not acknowledge the joke. This worried Lucy more than anything. She stumbled along beside him, wondering what the consequences would be if she fell. When the brush had thinned out to a point where they could slow down enough to talk, Tumnus spoke.

"Lucy, listen to me," he said seriously. "Badger is an old fool for not being afraid. Strange creatures roam the wood at night, and an encounter with any one of them would..." He paused and took a quick breath. "It would be catastrophic."

"Oh." Surprised, Lucy looked around them wildly then back at Tumnus. "Why did you let me come if you thought it would be dangerous?"

"I can't say no to you," Tumnus said helplessly. "They're just supposed to be myths, but... no one knows for sure."

"It won't be that bad," Lucy decided optimistically. "They probably aren't even real!"

"I'm sure you're right," Tumnus murmured, appearing to calm down slightly. "No one I know has ever seen them before, after all."

Lucy nodded understandingly. "If we did happen to see one, what would it look like?"

"I'm afraid we would be dead by then," Tumnus murmured. "But the legends say they are tall and two legged and dark, like a Werewolf. They carry sharp weapons and are dressed in odd clothes."

"How peculiar," Lucy said, looking thoughtful. "I wonder if they could be reasoned with. They probably aren't that frightening, once you get to know them."

Tumnus agreed with her, as he always seemed to do.

All the same, when they returned to the castle just before sunset, both of them were quite relieved.

* * *

After supper, when everyone was feeling stuffed from a meal almost (but not quite) as grand as the feast of their coronation night, everyone went out to the beach. The cold sand was a bit unpleasant between their toes, but the sound of the waves crashing on the beach made them feel soothed and sleepy, and Susan thought she could almost hear a mermaid lullaby being sung in the distant deep. They laid a blanket out and settled there to watch the stars for a little while, and Tumnus told them stories and they all enjoyed themselves immensely. Oreius, who had accompanied them (he usually kept to himself, as Centaurs are sometimes known to do), remained silent for most of their little outing. It was the Centaur himself who had suggested that they would go out to the beach that evening, though he had not explained why, and everyone was simply aching to know.

Peter lay on his back on the blanket, his siblings on either side of him, feeling safe and content. The day had been a good and productive one. He almost forgot about Oreius until the great Centaur spoke.

"High King Peter, there is something I must speak to you about."

Though reluctant to give up his comfortable position, Peter scrambled to his feet. Oreius only bothered him with something when it was of the utmost importance. A trusted advisor, a military genius, and an honorable Narnian, Peter valued his opinion highly and would want to hear anything the Centaur had to say.

"Yes, General?"

"I am sorry to disturb you, your Majesty. But the stars have spoken. The Hunter and the Sea have aligned."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at the Centaur. He felt pitifully small next to the Beast, and seemed to get smaller with each passing moment. A cold shiver of fear ran down his spine at the possible gravity of the General's words. Centaurs knew the stars and what their arrangements meant, but he did not. But the seriousness with which Oreius said this made him feel more than a little frightened.

Oreius glanced up at the sky intently, as if asking for help.

"High King, war is coming again to Narnia."


End file.
